


Oh, to be young and stupid

by m_jeevas



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alley Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_jeevas/pseuds/m_jeevas
Summary: Sasori’s not entirely sure how they end up like this, but he chalks it up to a combination of alcohol, restlessness, and Deidara’s absolute inability to leave anything alone until he gets what he wants.Fucking pest.Day 2: Horror
Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto), Hoshigaki Kisame/Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32
Collections: SasoDei Week 2021





	Oh, to be young and stupid

This god damned meeting has been going on for how long now? Sasori’s eyes stay fixated on the spot just above Pein’s head, nodding in intermittent intervals according to the ebb and flow of his voice.

At least an hour. Two hours? Felt like an eternity.

And they’d already gotten the instructions ahead of time per Konan’s request.

This is how it goes with the Akatsuki. Ten high level criminals gathered in one spot—the intimidation tactics wouldn’t work, and holy _shit_ did Pein find a way around that.

Sasori’s going to die of boredom. This is going to be it.

But they’re almost in the clear. Even Pein can’t stretch this on for that much longer.

That is, if everyone plays their part.

His heart nearly stops when Pein’s gaze focuses on Deidara, who’s been picking at his nails for the last fifteen minutes. “Deidara, why don’t you give us a rundown of the plan?”

“Wait, what, hm?”

The silence that comes over the room is enough to hear a pin drop.

Pein erases the chalkboard in front of him, fresh piece of chalk already in hand. There’s almost a hint of glee in his eyes as he cleans off the board in even, calculated swipes. “Alright, let’s take it from the top, people.”

There’s a collective groan, and everyone’s eyes are practically searing through Deidara.

Sasori’s going to fucking disembowel him.

~

They’re on their way to Kumogakure, and Sasori’s still seething.

“Y’know, when I started with this shit, I thought you went out of your way to do things right for Pein because he’s a fucked up guy or something, hm,” Deidara’s groaning. He’s sprawled out over one side of his clay bird, while Sasori’s sitting cross legged behind him. The air is cool on their faces, a perfect spring day with only a handful of fluffed up clouds in the sky. Ideal flying weather. “But oh _man_ , that was the _longest_ fucking lecture I’ve ever sat through, hm. He’s always like that?”

“You’re lucky you’ve been here this long without getting roped into any of those meetings. And you could have at least _pretended_ you were paying attention.”

“Were you, hm?”

Sasori barks out a laugh. “Nobody listens! But I’m not going to announce it to the whole room, you fucking brat.”

“Don’t call me that, hm,” Deidara huffs offhandedly.

“After that stint? I’m going to say whatever the hell I want.”

Yeah, fair enough.

He’s irritated, but he still lets Deidara roll over and plop his head onto his lap. Hair splays over Sasori’s things and down onto the clay bird, framing Deidara’s face in frizzy, messed up locks.

He runs a hand absentmindedly through the blond’s hair, no less annoyed than before. “You think you’ll work your way back onto my good side by being cute?” he drawls, tracing a finger down the length of Deidara’s face and across the curve of his jaw.

“Oh, for sure, hm,” he laughs in return, flashing a wide, toothy grin.

Alright, it works a little.

“If that doesn’t do it, maybe the two nights we’ve got by ourselves at the inn will do it, hm,” Deidara suggests, noting the way Sasori shifts ever so slightly underneath him. They’d fallen into this routine fairly quickly and a little too easily.

Neither of them mind it.

Sasori scowls, but he’s not objecting. “That’s all you ever have on the brain?”

“I’m eighteen, of course it is, hm.”

“You’re telling me I had to spend an extra hour and a half listening to that idiot drone on because you couldn’t even _pretend_ you weren’t thinking about getting fucked?”

One of these days, Sasori’s really going to kill him.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about how quick I’m going to get you in my pants once we’re there, sue me, hm,” Deidara hums, voice a little too innocent for the way his eyes lock with the redhead’s. “We can try something new, see how these feel instead of my mouth, yeah?” he offers, flashing both of the hand mouths decorating his palms. One’s sitting calm, while the other lets its tongue hang out, lolling around when Deidara moves his hand around.

“Those aren’t getting anywhere near my dick.”

How many times had they tried to bite at his fingers? No fucking way.

“Seriously? You’ve never just looked at these and even _thought_ about what it would be like?”

“No,” Sasori says flatly.

“Wow. That’s… _shocking_ , hm.”

Sasori blinks once, twice. “Deidara,” he starts cautiously, watching his partner curl his hand into a fist before opening it again to let the mouth part and gurgle slightly. “Have _you_ thought about putting your dick in there?”  
The silence that floats between them is a little too long and a little too telling. As Deidara’s about to open his mouth, his partner is waving his hand to shut him up before he can speak.  
“Don’t answer that.”

“I mean _come on_ , hm. They’re right there, what am I—”

“ _Deidara_.”

“Alright, alright, jeez, hm. I’ll drop it.”

“Listen,” Sasori starts, because he knows even the second time around, Deidara hadn’t been paying attention, and he was desperately trying to change the subject. “All we have to do is drop off a few scrolls, talk up a few of our resource points of contact, and _nothing_ else.”

“Man, that’s _boring_ , hm.”

“Boring or not, that’s the plan, alright? Kisame and Itachi are doing the heavy lifting before we get there. No need for us to get our hands dirty this time.”

Deidara groans, complaining again about how dull it is, how their skills could be utilized so much more, that this is a waste of his time, until Sasori’s giving him a flat, irritated stare.

At least, instead of talking about his extra mouths, he’s taken to tracing the lines around Sasori’s joints, nails scratching slightly against the smooth wood beneath them.

“Well, let’s at least go out to eat, hm.”

Sasori figures it’s better than arguing, and wearily agrees.

Deidara pulls himself up and presses his lips to Sasori’s in a kiss that’s all tongue and open mouths.

~

The drop off is easy enough. Half of the lords here want the Akatsuki dead, the other half is just as corrupt and sees the chance for a profit.

Deidara’s the one that always does the talking. Sasori, as his partner words it, is “too off putting.”

He’d argue, but it’s almost appalling how good the blond is at chatting with the lords, their wives, the housekeepers. The kid’s a pain in the ass but he’s a fucking _natural_.

And Sasori doesn’t mind that he’s gotten out of forced, trivial conversation.

They’re in and out, and after dinner, Deidara _insists_ on going to the bar.

“Deidara, I look like I’m fifteen.”

The blond only shrugs. “Turn yourself for a bit.”

“You realize I became a puppet to _avoid_ having a human body, right?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to do it later anyway, hm,” Deidara adds with a wink. “So come on, quit arguing. Get that jutsu going and let’s get moving, hm.”

“One round.”

Does this kid already have him whipped?

God.

Deidara grins. “Alright, one round, hm.”

Sasori ends up drinking more in one night than he has in the last ten years.  
~

“Wanna get a drink?” Kisame offers, nodding his head towards a hole in the wall bar up ahead. Their end was easy enough—clean up the guards before Sasori and Deidara came through for the drop off.

Showered, blood free, and in their spare street clothes, they’d been wandering around the village for a few hours before picking up dinner.

Itachi shrugs. “Not particularly. Do you remember how much we just ate?” Ramen, Katsudon, dango, what else had Kisame ordered? He wasn’t sure about his partner, but Itachi could barely walk, not used to the luxury of stuffing himself with so much food.

“Nah, that’s good, that means you’ll be able to hold your liquor better,” Kisame offers. “Besides, what else’re we going to do all night? I don’t know about you, but I’m already sick of our room.”

Couldn’t argue with that. Worst case, Itachi could get himself a pot of tea while Kisame chatted with the locals.

More friendly than Itachi would have preferred him to be.

“Plus, aren’t kids your age always dying to go to the bar?”  
“When you say it like that, the less I’m interested.” But it sounds like either way, Kisame’s going in. That leaves him sitting by himself at the inn without much to do.

Isn’t the best idea for them to get separated, either. With a sigh, he lets his Sharingan fade off. “Alright. Just a round or two.”

Kisame goes for sake, and Itachi gets a pot of green tea. If anything, he’ll treat himself to a rare cigarette later. For now, he just wants to digest.

~

Sasori’s not entirely sure how they end up like this, but he chalks it up to a combination of alcohol, restlessness, and Deidara’s absolute inability to leave anything alone until he gets what he wants.

Fucking pest.

But here he is, Deidara’s back pressed against cold stone, straddling him with their hips crushed locked together and arms dangling over Sasori’s shoulders.

He’s too old to be fucking someone in a bar alleyway.

Deidara’s at the age where this type of shit’s all he thinks about.

He’s become used to the sensation of Deidara’s hand mouths lapping and nipping at his shoulders, his neck, anywhere that his partner’s palms trail over.

They’ve got to make this quick.

Sasori’s head is spinning, and he’s definitely crossed the threshold from buzzed to drunk. Against him, his partner is squirming, hands fluttering over his skin to take in the heat radiating off of him.

The things he fucking does for this idiot.

“Fuck me, hm” Deidara’s whispering against Sasori’s earlobe, and his partner’s pushing him back against the wall, his hand locked against the base of his throat.

“Here,” Sasori rasps isntead, pressing his hand flush against the stiffness between Deidara’s legs. There’s a gasp, and he’s letting his hips roll up, trying to get _more_. “Can’t fuck here, this’ll have to do for now,” he’s whispering, half teasing and half knowing that there’s no way they can get that far without an issue.

Plus, Sasori’s left the lube in their room.

“At least blow me, hm,” Deidara’s begging, scraping his hand absentmindedly down the knobs of his partner’s spine. Only seconds after the request, he’s shifting them around, moving his hands to push Sasori down to his knees so he can fumble with the blond’s pants.

Yeah. Alright. Yeah.

Sasori gives into the force, letting Deidara guide him until his lips part and he twists his tongue around Deidara’s tip. His hand cups at his balls, feeling the familiar scratch of pubic hair against his fingers.

They’ve got to make this quick.

They have a few minutes.

Not in _that_ much of a rush.

Sasori can’t help but relish in the way Deidara becomes powerless beneath him. He untenses his jaw, letting his tongue slide down the blond’s shaft before taking the entire length down his throat.

His mouth is _toofuckinghot_ and _toofuckinggood_ , tearing a whine from Deidara’s lips that has him just as hard between his own legs.

 _Fuck_.

Deidara’s thrusting against him, his movements erratic and full of a frantic lust that sends a shiver down Sasori’s spine.

Like this, he’s in control of Deidara. Like this, he swallows against his partner’s cock, tongue pressed flush to its underside, relishing in the way that Deidara squirms against him. His eyes flick up, and Deidara’s face is scrawled with desperate lust and a need for Sasori’s body that felt almost frightening.

Intoxicating.

“Finish me,” Deidara nearly begs, but his hands are already pushing Sasori’s head down that much further, fingers curled into bright red locks.

The redhead swallows against him again, groaning when he feels Deidara pulse against the back of his throat

 _Fuck_.

Deidara cums with a sharp gasp, rolling his hips up until his base hits Sasori’s lips, hand keeping his head pressed down firm while his hips quivered against his face.

It’s short lived pleasure, because the bar’s back door is swinging open and Itachi’s walking out, freezing with his lips parted in what looks to be a mix of shock, horror, and second-hand embarrassment.

The rest of it happens in a flash. Sasori realizes too late that Deidara’s foot Is catching in between his ribs, kicking him across the alleyway with a force so strong his back cracks against the parallel wall. His partner’s fumbling with his pants, shouting “ _Shit, SHIT!”_ and Itachi’s reeling around, all but throwing himself back into the bar and slamming the door shut behind him.

The two of them look at each other, unable to hide the discomposure that clung to both of their faces.

 _Notfuckinggood_.

~

The bar’s too loud--flickering lanterns decorate where they can, but all Kisame can smell is sweat, cheap booze, and even cheaper perfume. It wasn’t like Itachi to smoke, but who was he to question whatever the hell his partner wanted to do. He breaks into another bottle of sake, nearly hissing with each sip that makes its way down his throat. This shit’s too cheap. His body feels hot, but his head is swimming, already knowing that the cheap alcohol is going to give him a horrid hangover. Past twenty-five, alcohol was more harm than good. 

Still, what the hell else did he have to do? 

But he’s only a quarter of the way through his next round before Itachi comes rushing in, Sharingan completely off again. Can he see? Kisame is about to ask, but Itachi’s rustling through his wallet like a madman, throwing bills onto the bar without even looking. “We’re leaving.” 

For a flash, Kisame is furious. Of course, the minute he orders another drink is when they have to rush out. Damn it. “What? Who’ve we got on our tail?” 

It’s worse that Itachi doesn’t answer him. He tries to pour himself another drink. Itachi grasps the glass out of his hand and drinks it himself. “ _Now_.” 

Alright, alright, alright. Damn. Kisame glances each way before slipping the rest of the bottle out with him. Cheap or not, he’s not about to waste it. And with the panic in Itachi’s eyes, it looks like he’ll need it later. On the street, he keeps an eye out behind him and Samehada clutched in his hand so hard that his knuckles are turning white. 

Not good not good not good.

“Itachi, come on, this shit isn’t funny.” 

Kisame honestly doesn’t remember the rest of the trip back. His head is swimming--all the alcohol hitting halfway through their trek back. Itachi’s nearly dragging him back into their room. He can’t be causing too much of a scene. At the very least, he’s keeping his mouth shut. 

Still, not fucking good. But if someone’s after their heads, Itachi wouldn’t just lead him back here. 

This is the first time he’s ever truly seen Itachi break his composure. His face, beet red, is only getting worse as he paces around the room. He’s disheveled, fumbling for two glasses and nearly slamming them down in from of Kisame. _Right, he knows I swiped it_. Fucking doesn’t miss anything, Sharingan or not.

It isn’t until their drinks are poured and Itachi downs one, two, three glasses that he starts talking. _Liquid courage?_ At least by now, Kisame knows it’s not a threat to his life. In a way, it’s worse that it isn’t. Itachi’s brow furrows, settles, furrows again.

“You good? Man, I can’t remember the last time I saw you worked up like this.” The answer was that he’d never seen Itachi like this.

“I…” Itachi swallowed. “Sasori and Deidara are here.” Okay, yeah. They knew that.

Wait.

“At the bar? We should have had a round with them!” Kisame sputters, almost annoyed. Honestly, he appreciated Sasori’s sour attitude. And Deidara could be a source of entertainment after a drink. Or a bottle.

“ _No_.” 

The jolt of his voice catches Kisame by surprise. “What?” 

Itachi’s clearly half-drunk by now, motioning with his glass and pouring himself another drink freely from Kisame’s stash. “I went out back for a cigarette,” the younger man starts, and if on cue, pulls out the one he had never lit from behind his ear. “I go out, and I hear something behind the trash. So I keep an eye on it. I see two people, I figure they’re just...I don’t know. I figured if it was about us, they’d have done something by now.” 

“Dude, get to the point,” Kisame finally snaps.

“Sasori had Deidara’s cock down his throat.” 

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“What?” Kisame sputtered, and then laughed awkwardly. Itachi’s fucking with him.

Itachi never fucked with him.

“ _What?_ ” It’s then that the gravity of this begins to set in. “They didn’t see you. You just came back in, right?” 

Another drink down Itachi’s throat. “We made dead eye contact.”

“Oh my God. Oh my _God,_ Itachi.” 

Itachi, for the first time, truly looks at Kisame with pleading in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do with this. He’s a trained killer. An S-ranked ninja. But at the heart of it, he’s an eighteen-year-old that has little to no sexual experience and zero social skills. 

Kisame swipes a bottle of whisky out of his bag and pours both of them a glass.

“We’re not going to say a fucking word about any of this,” he concludes, and taps his glass against Itachi’s before downing a gulp that makes his throat and eyes sting. “Alright?” 

Itachi nodded once. Twice. Held his glass up for Kisame to pour another splash of whiskey in. “Alright. Cheers to that.” 

They tap their glasses against the night stand between their beds, and Itachi knocks the shot back with a pained wince.


End file.
